


Blow Job King

by Sinbirdy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Rhys, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Top Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/pseuds/Sinbirdy
Summary: Jack had a bad day at work. Rhys is there, available, looking pretty. A forcefully proud blowjob ensues.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	Blow Job King

**Author's Note:**

> It's tagged non/dub con but it's all consensual - Jack's just aggressive enough to make it feel blurred. I assure you no Rhys' were harmed in the making of this (for now...).

The door slams loud enough to ricochet off the walls and scare Rhys, interrupting his furious typing. He'd decided to work from Jack's office for the day, enjoy the luxuries of dating the CEO. Jack usually stays late at the office so he expected a couple more hours to do overtime before his return, but seemingly routine had been shaken up. He listens out for other signs of life - he hears Jack throw something at a wall, hears him cursing furiously with no shame, and then another slamming door. 

Rhys takes his queue to search Jack out. 

He finds the older man in their bedroom, standing before his mirror. He's thrown his jacket, vest and shirt to the bed, and flexes his biceps by stretching his belt across the back of his neck, pulling either end. Rhys can see his face in the reflection. Eyes closed, teeth gritted. His rage is almost intoxicating how intimidating it is. His knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the leather of his belt. 

Rhys knocks timidly on the bedroom door and steps inside cautiously. He sees Jack's eyes open in the mirror's reflection, but his stare stays distant.

"Everything okay?" Rhys asks, cautiously, suddenly all too aware of the way his wrists twitch in time to his heartbeat. Jack's a maniac, but he's not a bad lover. He's not a mean boyfriend. He wouldn't hurt Rhys...well, not out of malice. The fear he feels is the indoctrinated anxiety every loyal Hyperion employee learns when working under Handsome Jack. It's still ingrained in him, regardless of the change in their relationship. 

There's a tense silence, suffocating, heavy, and Rhys feels the lump in his throat get stuck. Then Jack whips the belt down and turns on his heels fast to face Rhys. A wicked grin stretches across his features. It's like a caricature, dipped in wax, coated in the devil's nectar.

"You know what I  _ hate _ , Rhysie? Disloyalty. Laziness," He wags his forefinger in Rhys' direction as he closes the space between them, squaring up to the younger man. "You would  _ think _ if you pay someone's salary, they would at least  _ try _ to rub together their two brain cells and impress me! That's the least I deserve for employing them." He wraps the leather of his belt around his fists and pulls hard to make the material snap. Rhys jerks, shocked, somewhat scared, and feels his cheeks turn pink when Jack catches the flicker of fear. 

"Sorry, the noise just--"

"Not you though, right kitten?" Jack drops the belt from one hand and runs his fingers down Rhys' cheek. He clicks his tongue and admires the younger man's supple, soft features. "No, never you. You're loyal, and proactive, and  _ so  _ smart, I wish I could make love to that freakin' brain of yours!" He laughs and stumbles back. He throws the belt onto the bed and finishes undresses, whipping his yellow jumper off before his trousers, then paces the bedroom.

Rhys watches the performance completely confused. Sometimes Jack does this, rambles through his rolex of madness, cracks his knuckles and keeps his hands busy, working to distract the psychotic impulses that wish to seek out a neck to strangle. It's hard to gauge what's justified with Jack, but Rhys knows better than to question him. There's something almost funny about his anger, accentuated by his near naked roaming. Rhys also knows better than to  _ laugh _ , though. 

Rhys interjects somewhere amidst Jack's ramblings, "Why don't we go somewhere for dinner. Gives us an excuse to dress up!" He's disappointingly met with a cold scoff.

"You're about as much company as I can take right now, and even  _ that's _ pushing the line!" 

Sigh. Okay, it's mean Jack. The cruel for the sake of entertainment Jack that lines his intentions in razor blades. The pretentious, pompous, royal act is yesterday's news, and now it's just red hot anger. Rhys nods gently to himself. 

"Alright, I'll leave you to sulk. Find me when you want dinner, I'll make us something to--"

As Rhys begins walking away though, Jack grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back, his hand fitting into the curve of his lower back and using the vantage to pull him aggressively into a sloppy, heated kiss. Rhys grunts, shocked, and for a second almost pushes away, but Jack’s persistent, forceful, and the heel of his palm is deep in the small of his back like a warning. Rhys groans as Jack shoves his tongue past his lips. The smell of ash, gun powder, electricity  _ burning _ , it’s soaked into his skin, his hair, and Rhys can taste the fires on his lips. He resists melting, but he can’t stop his heart hammering like a rabbit’s back foot. He kisses back, softly, countering Jack’s aggression.

When the older man pulls back, catching his breath, he laughs at the shell shocked expression on Rhys’ face; resembling a deer in the headlights. He strokes back a strand of hair that’s fallen around his face, then slips his fingers under Rhys’ chin, tipping his viewpoint ever so slightly. He watches the way Rhys' adams apple bobbles as he swallows the tense lump in his throat. Jack wants to bite it, make it purple.

"All I want right now, are those cute lips of yours snug as a bug around my cock."

Rhys blinks suddenly, surprised. The smooth, sultry way Jack spoke deceived him, made Rhys feel special and sweet. He backs up slightly but Jack still has his hand possessively around his back holding him close.

"Well uh, that was a very sudden revelation…" Rhys laughs awkwardly, his cheeks turning a delectable pink as he tries to avoid Jack's devious stare. Jack's hand moulds to grip Rhys' chin, manhandling him how he likes. Rhys' point of view snaps back to lock on Jack's wicked grin.

"Listen, cupcake, you're either going to get on your knees voluntarily, or I'll force my dick down your throat. What's it going to be?"

Rhys knows this is just one of Jack's forms of foreplay, and frankly he likes it _ a lot _ , being bossed around, putting up a fight just to rile up his maniac of a boyfriend, but he figures today might not be a good idea to play hard. The maniacal glimmer in his iris', warning him,  _ warming  _ him, Rhys is almost hypnotized. Jack's fingers tighten around his jaw, and Rhys nods in compliance.

"Atta boy,” Jack’s hand lightly pushes down on Rhys’ shoulder as he sinks down to the floor before him. “Putting my best worker bee to do what he does best is certainly good for what ails ya.” He sits on the edge of the bed in front of Rhys and bites his bottom lip,  _ chews  _ it, watching Rhys hook his fingers in the waistband of his boxers like they’re his prey. Rhys looks up at him and scoffs in disgust.

“I’d like to think I’m more than just another worker b--”

“Less talking, more sucking.” Jack rushes the process and takes his hardening cock in hand, pumping it once before grabbing a fist full of Rhys’ hair and directing him to his destination. Rhys yelps, undignified, but  _ embarrassingly  _ instinctive, his mouth opens ready and he takes Jack’s cock in his mouth almost fully, able to still himself at the point of reaching the base. Jack chuckles, damn near giggles like a smug little kid, and Rhys grunts as he tries to pull off.

However, Jack’s holding him down, pushing against his head and tugging on his hair at the same time, and all Rhys can do is take his throbbing hard-on like a champ. So he didn’t have much of a say in the matter, this was Jack’s fun, Rhys was a means to reach bliss...well, he should at least do a job well done, right? The shock of the whole forceful proposition has settled, Rhys can think clearly, and well and truly impress his big bad boss. 

So he rolls his shoulders, inhales deeply through his nose, and quickly sinks down the entirety of Jack’s cock to take it whole, loosening his throat and sliding his tongue around the underside of his shaft to really make Jack lose it - which he does. Jack throws his head back and growls, ferociously, toes curling in the carpet, fingers tangling deeper in Rhys’ silky locks. 

“Titty fucking  _ Christ,  _ Rhysie...that’s so fucking good…”

Rhys would protest if accused of such, but he's rather well versed in the art of oral. Jack's no exception. In fact, he's perfected things with him, having found a practiced ease. Jack's fingers are tight in his hair but Rhys finds some wiggle room, now he’s got his nerves shaking -  _ Impatience isn't sexy _ , he thinks. He slowly drags off his cock and hollows his cheeks before sucking around the prick, dipping his tongue in the slit, enjoying the way Jack hums darkly. The rhythm is safe, familiar, but still all so dirty that Jack doesn’t snap back to force his dick down his throat again. Just when Jack’s getting used to the pace, Rhys takes him in one slick motion all the way down until his nose is buried in curly hair. 

He can almost feel the tensions of his bad day leave Jack’s body. He rests his hands either side of Jack’s outer thighs. His skin is soft, with the faintest bumps here and there where life hasn’t been kind to him. Most of Jack’s body is a bounty of wounds. Scars litter his sun kissed skin, bullet holes have left behind rigid, dark markings, and on the worst of nights Jack can still feel them all like they’re fresh again, together, in sync. Rhys likes to trace his fingers over them, memorise the fragile cracks where they’ve healed. His legs are the cleanest of battle scars, but there’s still a few, like butterfly wings, fluttering gently, barely leaving a trace unless you concentrate. Rhys lets his mind wander aimlessly while his head bobs rhythmically.

Until Jack thrusts his hips aggressively. 

Jack's cock hits the back of Rhys' throat suddenly, so abrasive that the younger man almost sees an explosion of stars. He holds it together for a second before his gag reflex hits him and he reverses, fighting against the pressure of Jack's hand on his hair. He looks up at Jack, his long lashes giving him the softest doe eyes, and drool dribbles down his lips as he pants. Jack could almost cum on the spot admiring him.

“You’re a freakin’  _ stunner _ , cupcake--  _ God _ , so good, real freakin  _ great,  _ even.” Jack’s voice is strained, riding every vocal chord like nails on a chalkboard. His perfectly styled hair has deflated, strands now feathered around his face, and Rhys can see around the edges of his mask his skin is tinting pink.

Rhys brings his hand to wrap around Jack’s cock, and strokes it gently. He leans down and dips his tongue in the slit of his dick again, before taking the head in his mouth and sucking softly. His lips pull into a devious smirk when Jack chokes out loudly, cursing while clutching the bed sheets beneath him. It was only a few seconds, but Jack missed the heat of his wet mouth like it had been an eternity. 

Rhys picks up the rhythm in his hand, loving how it twitches, how Jack’s legs quake. There’s a pain in his knees but he ignores it, focused on the here and now, the heaving, wet pants coming from Jack desperately. He’s close, absolutely. 

“Kitten, let go,” Jack mumbles, batting Rhys’ hand away. He complies, still bobbing up and down though, until Jack buries both his hands in Rhys’ hair and begins furiously thrusting into his mouth, so desperate some might assume there’s an emergency to climax. Rhys splutters, but Jack doesn’t let up - he’s determined to loosen the knots in his body. 

It's not just about the sensation for Jack, especially right now, when his nerves are so tight and his heart is swelling with repressed rage. Right now, the blinding euphoria comes from seeing Rhys submit and commit to him. His pleasure comes in the form of seeing his favourite person break himself apart. Rhys learns to relax, take Jack's abuse like he's in the deepest part of a dream. His scalp aches, his hair feels matted from taking his abuse, and the back of his throat stings, but there’s a sick delight that Rhys gets knowing no one else can see Jack like this. 

Fat tears had been rolling down his cheeks for some time now, the corners of Rhys' eyes felt like niagra falls. The heat engulfs him. Jack’s relentless, unforgiving, fucking his face furiously. Suddenly Jack’s hips still on an incline and he grunts ferociously. Rhys feels cum spurt over his tongue and shoots down the back of his throat, hitting the roof of his mouth-- just  _ filling  _ him up. Jack shivers, thrusts as the waves of his arousal roll through him. His fingers go limp, and his head drops against his chest to look down at Rhys. The younger man softly removes Jack’s hands from his hair and rests them on the bed.

He pulls off Jack's cock with a wet, loud plop. A trail of cum connects his prick and Rhys’ glossy bottom lip, and keeping his eyes locked with Jacks, he licks his lips seductively and swallows down. Jack’s eyes are wild.

He grabs Rhys like a beast and yanks him up onto the bed, straddling the younger man and crashing their lips together. Rhys moans into his mouth, laughing slightly. 

“I picked a real good one with you, didn’t I, baby? Blow job  _ king  _ you are! I’ll get you a plaque for your desk, let everyone know exactly who you are. Do you want a raise? Hell, I think you deserve a promotion!”

“Appreciated, but maybe we should keep work stuff purely professional. I don’t need my coworkers knowing I slept my way to the top...or, uh,  _ blew _ .” Rhys scoffs. He runs his hands down Jack’s forearms and sighs deeply. “Are you feeling better?”

Jack grins. His eyebrow arches. “Abso-fucking-lutely, pumpkin. So good, I think I should repay the favour…”

**Author's Note:**

> Horny for horny sake.
> 
> P.S. Jack repays him by riding him, probably...absolutely.


End file.
